Although Baby Evan is named after his father (and grandfather), I couldn’t stop myself from picking out a few other possible names for boy children during my first pregnancy. Luckily, we don’t have a legacy to continue this time so I get to maybe use some of those choices. I’ve got a list a mile long for possible girl names but E and I have actually almost settled on another boy name – two names from my side of the family, one from my mom’s side and one from my dad’s.

Unfortunately, these two names would give Baby 2 some rather unfortunate initials. I mean, not unfortunate like A.S.S. or G.A.Y. or even D.U.M. but they almost spell something. Think of a specific type of hallucinogenic drug popular among dirty hippies during the 60’s.

There are two ways around this. One, we just name the baby what we want. How often does a guy use their initials for something? I don’t know the middle names of almost ANYONE I went to school with, except for the people who used them as their first names. Plus I don’t think these initials are terrible enough to really matter.

Our second option is just to add a second middle name. It breaks up the initials and gives him something a little bit special, which might be nice since Baby Evan has that annoying III after his name. My only problem is I really like the way the first two names sound and haven’t come up with another one I like as much.

At least, I hadn’t until my mother emailed me last week.

If you’re due Christmas day, she said, then I know how to solve the problem with the boy-name initials…

… His name should be Firstname Middlename Jesus Davis.

GENIUS.

And amen.

Since I have about fiveteenbazillionty people visiting right now for Baby Evan’s birthday, I was really hoping to find an Friday activity we could all enjoy more than starting at each other. Or cleaning my stove. Which is apparently my dad’s idea of a fun afternoon activity. Luckily, I was able to rudely invade my play group’s Easter egg hunt at the local park, because standing around staring becomes an acceptable pass time when there are children at which to stare. Of course I mean stare in a totally non-creepy, not in the bushes, not driving a windowless van sort of way.

Besides, it’s not like I had anything better to do than buy, stuff, and hide 30 plastic eggs. I don’t have much going on right now. You know, nothing like a ridiculously elaborate, hand crafted birthday party for 45 people. Nope, not me.

All the pretty baskets

Baby Evan enjoys story time before the hunt started. P.S. DON'T EVEN ASK ME ABOUT WHY HE HAS A GIANT BANDAGE ON HIS FOREHEARD.

OK, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT HIS HEAD. It's really not a big deal. Baby Evan fell this morning and smashed his head on the support post in our kitchen. I'm told he wasn't actually that upset but the bump is HUGE. Even huger than the bump from our emergency room trip.

Baby Evan's cousin Ethan liked finding the eggs, but was very disappointed most of them didn't contain candy. All the mommies made wise choices so most of them had stickers and organic snack mix.

Baby Evan didn't really care what was in them. He just liked that they were round and brightly colored.

Ethan did somehow manage to find the only two eggs on the entire playground that had chocolate in them. Boy, that kid really likes candy. Saturday is going to BLOW HIS MIND.

Awesome, now I have a whole bunch of really useful plastic eggs.

OK, so the bump has gone down a lot since this morning and I'm hoping he'll be improved enough before the party that no band-aid is better than band-aid. Or maybe I'll just find some circus themed band-aids and pretend it was on purpose.

Since our visit with Santa was so adorable, I figured we should add to our collection of overpriced holiday photos with a visit to the Easter Bunny. I  bought a cute semi-dressy outfit from The Children’s Place (although little boy Easter clothes are a joke compared to the fiveteenbazillionty spring dresses available for little girls A JOKE I TELL YOU), picked a time when I didn’t think it would be busy, and dragged the baby and myself off to Crystal Mall.

It did not go well.

Maybe I should have picked a day when Baby Evan had a good nap and wasn’t sort of cranky to be in the stroller. Maybe I should have brought E along for back-up crazy arm-waving and clapping to distract the baby. Maybe I should known ahead of time my infant son wasn’t going to be into the giant menacing rabbit whose lap I suddenly thrust him into and then walked away. I mean, do you want to be left with this guy?

NOT THE ACTUAL BUNNY AT THE CRYSTAL MALL

That’s how the Easter Bunny looked through Baby Evan’s eyes.

Besides the fact that the baby hated the whole scenario, I have some real problems with their Easter Bunny set up.

What’s with the paint-spattered drop cloth as a background? Is the Easter Bunny remodeling his…borough? Cave? House? And what’s with the mint-green lifeguard stand in the corner? Why are those extra bunnies wearing do-rags? And the biggest question, why is the Easter Bunny wearing Benjamin Franklin’s glasses and also possibly his overcoat? Did the Easter Bunny kill Ben Franklin? Is that how he became immortal? OMG is the Easter Bunny a VAMPIRE?

Now you can understand why Baby Evan didn’t like him.

I gave up taking pictures with my own camera and tried to comfort my poor traumatized babycakes. He was ok as long as we weren’t in the actual photo area but every time I got anywhere near the Easter Bunny he started crying again. With the help of the very patient photo-taker lady we managed to get ONE photo in which Baby Evan isn’t shaking with anger and fear.

Unfortunately, I am also in the photo, along with my totally makeup free face and the edge of my nursing bra. GORGEOUS. At least you can’t tell my hair is still wet in the back.

Seriously though, what is UP with that bunny’s outfit? And why am I vaguely disturbed that he’s not wearing pants?

Well, I guess the good news is Baby Evan probably won’t grow up to be a furry.

(Dear Mom and Grandma, PLEASE DON’T ASK WHAT THAT IS. And for the love of God don’t Google it.)